Rebel: (Boneyard Brotherhood MC Romance Book 3) Page 2

  “Everything okay?” The officer voice came out, and I didn’t even consider the consequences.

  “Yeah man,” a Hispanic male said; he stood closest to the door and had a hand in his black hair.

  “He’ll be alright. We’re just waiting on his old lady to come pick him up.”

  “You’re gonna have to go back to the doctor, mate,” a black guy rumbled as he seemed to be keeping an eye on his watch, he had a hold of the wrist of the man at the desk. “This medicine that swapped you to is just making you really fucking useless.”

  “Try being in my shoes,” the male at the desk grunted. “I just wish there was a way to completely kill the spasms.”

  I stood taking in the conversation, dumbfound. I had no idea what was going on, and this wasn’t what I thought I would walk in on at all. The last male, white with ashy blonde hair, looked at me.

  “Sorry, man,” he offered me a hand. “If you need work done we’re going to be stalled until we can get Sid out of here safe and sound.”

  “What’s going on?” I took his hand and out of habit I gave it a firm squeeze. “He looks pretty bad.”

  “He’s disabled,” the guy that just spoke to me said. “They switched his medication on him, and the new kind isn't working out. So, he’s having to jump through hopes with the VA to get back on the old kind.”

  It clicked then, and I immediately shrugged off the mental critique of each man in the room, I’d only been an officer for two years, but it was still a force of habit to eye each person as a suspect.

  “Did he take too much?” I went to the desk and took the man’s, Sid’s, other wrist finding his pulse. It was steady, but the closer I was to him, I could see that he was sweaty and breathing rapidly.

  “Nah,” Sid sat back in the chair, shaking both the black man and me off. “I could probably swallow the whole damn bottle, and it wouldn’t do shit.” His dark hair was disheveled, and he rubbed his face, dragging a hand through his beard. He shot me a look, his eyes narrowed, and it was easy to see how much pain he was in. “Do I know you?”

  I got the attention of everyone then, I cleared my throat when I felt pinned by three sets of eyes. The first guy assumed I was a customer. “I just walked in,” I nodded towards the other white guy that spoke to me. “I’m not looking to have work done,” I shrugged. “I heard you guys hired vets and I thought I’d come in. Maybe put in an application?”

  I watched as the three other men exchanged looks, the white guy shrugged. “I don’t do office shit, I’ll leave that to you two,” he looked at Sid. “I’m going to get back to the car. You guys holler with Madi gets here, and I’ll help you get him to the car.”

  “We don’t really hire people off the street,” the Hispanic man said as he gave me the hard eye. “A lot of the folks that work here kind of get recommended to us. Do you got any experience with engines?”

  “What branch did you serve in?” The black guy asked with equal suspicion.

  “Army,” I said without missing a beat. It felt like he was challenging me, so I met his gaze with a bit frown. “Tactical Unmanned Aerial Systems Operations Technician. But,” I shrugged. “In the Army, you end up being a jack of all trades.”

  “Hooah,” Sid whimpered from the desk. “That shit is the truth, too.”

  I watched the two men exchange a look before the black man offered me a hand, “Terrance Jones. This is Jose Hernandez.”

  “Chase Miller,” I quickly replied. I was told to keep things simple and just go with the facts. I took his hand and shook it in return.

  “Like Jose said,” Terrance continued. “We’ve not really got a ‘Help Wanted’ sign out front. But,” he waved a hand towards Sid. “We have got to get Wilson’s bike back together before he gets back here.” He led me back through the door to the Honda Shadow that I first noticed. “Dude, if you can get this piece of shit back together and running before he gets here, consider yourself hired.”

  “If you fuck it up though,” Jose grinned at me. “We’re gonna be forced to hide your body.” That was enough to give me pause, and there must’ve been something telling on my face because he started to snicker, “It’s a joke man. We’re working on that old bastard’s bike at least every other month. He needs to retire it and get himself a new one.”

  “If he’d take care of it,” I heard Sid pipe up from the desk. “It wouldn’t be a problem.”

  I took a breath and went out to the bike, sighing internally. I didn’t know engines. I eyed the mess with a grimace before I looked up to see the two men at the door of the office watching me with smirks. This was a challenge. I guess I’d have to figure this shit out as I went. I sat down on the oily cement and covertly pulled out my phone. I was doing a quick search when I heard Jose speak up again: “It’s on a lift man.”

  I looked up at him, “Engine’s spread out on the floor it’ll be easier to work from down here.”

  There was a toolbox within reach, I found what looked like a useful page and got to work. It wasn’t more than an hour’s worth of work before I realized what the problem was. Sid hadn’t been kidding. The person that rode this bike treated it like shit. There was all kind of grime and oil build up in the engine that I wasn’t surprised the engine had to be in pieces. I had chucked my jacket to save it from oil stains, and I spent the rest of the time zoning out as I focused on the work to be done.

  When a brown haired girl skirted through the garage, I barely paid her any attention until I saw what was going on. Who I assumed was the Madi mentioned earlier, and all three of the other men had Sid propped up between them. They were slowly and carefully guiding him out. He walked, but with the way that he limped. It was evident that it took a great effort for him to do so. I stopped what I was doing to watch, a little surprised.

  I had expected a bunch of hardcore brutes. Guys that had been picked out of the military for not following the rules. What I saw here was men taking care of their own. I could see real concern on their faces, and it struck me. These were brothers. I hadn’t seen shit like this since I got out.

  What the hell could they be doing to get the attention of the law?

  After Sid was sent off the rest of them ambled back in. The white guy, who I later learned was Greg Smith, came back to work on the Toyota. Jose went back into the office, and Terrance loitered outside the bays with a phone at his ear. He spoke lowly, and I could feel him eyeing me. I wasn’t going to cave and I damn sure wasn’t going to give myself away.

  I didn’t try starting the bike until the streetlights had kicked on and I was sure I had the engine together. My hands were a black mess from all the oil, and I made sure I wiped them off as best I could with a rag before I tried to start it up.

  When it roared to life, I heard a cheer, and I looked up to see Jose, Greg, and Terrance clapping. Like I had done some kind of impossible feat putting it back together. I cut the engine, and I shrugged: “Who gives it a test ride?”

  “I do,” a voice snarled from the open bay door. A gnarled bear of a man stood in the open space. He wore a leather vest covered in patches and saggy stained jeans, his hair and beard were more white than gray. I briefly considered that his skin was made out of leather. It had a deep tan to it, and I could even picture the old guy on the bike. “Who the fuck are you and why are you touching my bike?”

  “This is Chase Miller,” Jose offered up, coming to meet the old man. “Sid had a bad day. Fucker started out bad but still tried to work through it. It took the guys dragging him into the office for him to realize he really needed to call it a day.” He nodded towards me, “Guy came in looking for a job. I figured your piece of shit was the best way to try him out.”

  “That piece of shit has seen more action than you have,” the old man grunted.

  He came to me, and with a little help, we managed to get the motorcycle off the lift. We wheeled it out into the lot, and he mounted it, kicking it to life. I watched as he settled onto it, adjusting a mirror and revving the gas so that the mach
ine roared at a deafening volume. I got a look from him before he rolled out onto the street and I watched with my heart in my throat as he tore down the road. The sound of the bike echoed down the street as it went. I waited for it to wreck, for the engine to fall out. Something to seal my fate and make me dead.

  Instead, after what might’ve been a mile, he did a u-turn and came back into the parking lot. The bike quieted to a rumbled purr, and the old man sat on it while he glared at me. It left me wondering if I committed some sort of insult to him by just working on it. Or did I fuck something up? I could feel the sweat start to drip down my neck until he suddenly killed the engine.

  “He say your name was Miller?”

  “Chase Miller,” I supplied.

  He looked at Jose with a frown, “Give the fucker a job, fit him in where you can. Pay him for the work he’s done today.”

  Jose shot me a smirk and nodded, going back to the office.

  The old man got off the bike and came to me, offering me one of his thick hands. “If it falls apart and I survive I’m gonna kill you, just so you know. Wilson,” he grunted at me.

  I nodded, “All I handled was the engine. The rest of the bike should be in one piece. If not, that would be because of someone else.”

  He gave a snort of laughter when I took his hand and gave him a firm shake, testing the strength behind his words. He squeezed in return until my knuckles protested, but I didn’t grimace or pull away. I just held firm until he decided to release me. His eyes narrowed for a beat, and he let me go.

  “If you miss a day consider yourself fired. We’re not here for carrying anyone’s ass. So if you kept the work ethic from the military,” he paused and raised an eyebrow at me.

  While it wasn’t a question, I knew what he was probing for. “Army.”

  I got a nod in return. Since he seemed done measuring me up, I took the time to look hard at his vest and the patches covering it. One I noticed, in particular, said ‘Prez’ in bold stitching above his name.

  “Look all you like, boy,” he turned away from me so I could see a winged skull on the back. ‘Boneyard Brotherhood’ surrounded it on banners. “Show me what you got here before you start asking for one of your own.” He got back on his bike and pulled on a helmet. “I got my eye on you,” he left me with as he fired the bike back up and roared out of the lot.

  I was left standing by myself watching after him. At least the first part of this shit was done. I thought this part would be hard.

  2

  I worked part time, which wasn’t something I was going to complain about. And aside from the first payment for working on Wilson’s bike, I received a paycheck. I paid taxes. There was no real tax evasion that I could see. There were no signs of fraud. I had no idea what captain was thinking putting me into this group. I worked three days a week, with a wire on. I knew the conversations I recorded were shit.

  They talked about women, which was pretty much on par for any group of men. There was talk about work, because sometimes when something was a little harder to figure out, they came together and looked at an engine before pinpointing the problem. The guy that ran the place didn’t really do a lot of the managerial work, he’d come in and check after any major engine work that was done on days that weren’t described as ‘bad days’ by the other guys.

  “He went to Iraq and didn’t get to come home in one piece,” Terrance clarified after my first day. “His convoy got hit by an IED, he was one of the lucky ones to survive. If you call what he’s going through now luck.”

  “He sticks around to make sure we don’t fuck anything up,” Jose said as he was changing the filter in a pickup. “Guy is nice and great to hang around. So we try to help our brother out the best we can. Considering everything he’s great to be around, too.” He shot me a look, “When he’s not down for the count you should have a drink with him. You’ll see what I’m talking about.’

  I nodded, “I’ll be sure to buy him a beer.”

  I kind of owed it to him. If I hadn’t walked in the shop when I did, I probably wouldn’t have the job now. Granted, a week later I still hadn’t seen any possibility of me getting into their club. While their symbol was on the shop and there were a few shirts hanging in the waiting room, none of them wore the leather vests. I guessed given the oil and grease they didn’t want to risk damaging them. At the end of the day, though, they would shrug them on and go out to their motorcycles.

  Since I still hadn’t got an invite to their clubhouse, I had no idea where it was, and I wasn’t in a position where I could snoop, yet. There wasn’t much I could do. I started a routine of work at the shop, hitting the gym, and learning what I could about clubs from the internet. I could easily see why they had a sudden desire to put a sting together to take down the ones in the area. I just hadn’t figured out why yet with this one.

  When weeks turned into months, and I was still coming up empty handed I decided I’d stop questioning it and just do the job like I’d done any other job in the Army. I kept my nose clean and did what I was told. Any reports that I sent to my captain weren’t really anything. I figured after this long of me not getting into the club they would eventually pull me. At least I had the opportunity to meet these people. I also still needed to buy Sid a beer.

  On a Friday, right at dusk, we were closing up. I just had the bay doors lowered when a grumbled growl of a motorcycle pulled into the shop’s lot. I didn’t acknowledge it when the engine was cut. The day had been long and hot, and I wasn’t going to stick around to entertain someone that showed up late. I was more interested in hitting a shower.

  “We’re closing up,” I called over my shoulder without paying the visitor any mind. “We’ll be opened at ten on Monday.”

  I started back towards the waiting room so I could get my jacket and helmet.

  “Fuck you, I ain’t waiting till Monday,” Wilson growled at me from behind. “You gotta bike?”

  I turned around and nodded towards the Sportster I had bought just for this. “I gotta bike, it ain’t much,” I admitted. “But it gets me around.”

  “We’re going for a ride,” he grunted at me, not even bothering to get off his bike. “C’mon.”

  Seeing that I was getting somewhere with the club, I didn’t argue. Besides, it didn’t sound like I had an option. I went into the lobby to get my jacket and helmet. Jose and Greg were at the lockers getting ready to go. Their leather vests were on, and I spotted Leon Coleman cleaning a pair of wrap arounds with a vest on, too. It made me realize I was the only man here with a vest.

  “You all have a vest?” I asked like I was ignorant to the fact that this was a club affiliated shop.

  “A cut,” Leon’s voice was a deep timber that seemed to match the rest of him, dark and foreboding despite his easy going attitude. “Not just a vest,” he seemed to be satisfied with his sunglasses, and he came to me. “This represents who we are,” he tapped the patch that said his name. “And what we do,” there was a patch above it that said ‘Grunt.’ “If you act right, you might be able to earn one of these.”

  I eyed his cut with interest now. I felt an immediate want to have one, aside from the fact that it looked bad ass, I wanted to wear it. On Leon’s cut, aside from the patches for the Boneyard Brotherhood, there were military related patches. Leon served in the Navy shown by an anchor with what looked like a quill across it. I scratched the back of my neck as I took in the rest of his patches. He had a patch for Iraq and one for Afghanistan. There was predictably a patch for missing in action. All of this was the path he had taken in his military career and his concerns once his career had been over.

  “I want one,” I murmured while studying his.

  “Act right,” he patted my shoulder and started to lead the way back out front. I heard the boots of the other men following. “And you’ll get one.”

  We mounted up then formed a pack with Wilson leading. Somehow I got positioned next to him. I know I didn’t start out there, I actually started out towards th
e back, and the other guys weaved out and around the group until I was shifted beside Wilson. My nerves prickled and I watched uneasily for anything that might ambush me.

  Did they know? Were they setting me up?

  We rode around the perimeter of the city. I thought when we first set out that it was just a joy ride, but the expressions of the men I could see seemed to show that there was something serious going on.

  I didn’t know what to expect from this, and the longer we rode, the more uneasy I got. We were outside the city limits when Wilson suddenly turned left into a parking lot. My stomach twisted into knots as I followed. The lot was small and seemed to only have enough room just for motorcycles. There was a line of bikes parked in front of a plain white cement block building. There were flags representing every branch, and for a second, I considered all the times I had passed by this building without giving it any real thought. I had assumed it was a Legion outpost or a VFW sect. I ended up halted in the middle of the lot as the rest of the group found spots to park their bikes. I finally decided to take the end spot, carefully walking my bike close to Leon’s and cutting the engine. I dismounted and warily watched as the other men came to circle me. I pulled my helmet off and set it on the seat, watching the other men for any sign of violence.